


Kidnapped!

by Anonymous



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: BDSM, Barebacking, Fear of Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, fondling while asleep, hunger/starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <a href="http://pintokinkmeme.livejournal.com/925.html?thread=1949#t1949">They are kidnapped and locked up together.</a> The kidnappers disappear and never show up again. What happens between the turn of the key and their rescue/escape? Happy ending is a must.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidnapped!

Head pounding, Chris tentatively reaches a hand to a sore spot on the back of his skull. In so doing he feels a heavy weight bound to his wrist and a rattle of solid bits of metal.

“The fuck,” he groans and tries to sit up.

“Chris, are you okay?” asks a voice.

He recognizes the voice but it takes a few moments for him to piece together where he’s heard it. “Zach?”

“Yeah man, looks like they got the two of us.”

“The two of us?” He grimaces as he moves to sit, his arms heavy. But as the dust in his brain begins to settle he opens his eyes to see the gloom that surrounds him. “Where are we?” he grunts when he manages to get himself seated. As his foggy eyes adjust he can see the shape of someone sitting opposite.

“I don’t know, but it kind of looks like a dungeon.”

Chris leans back and feels cold stone through his jacket and shirt. His clothes are filthy, covered in dirt and grime. It’s the tux he’d worn to the premiere - Berlin. What happened that night? He vaguely remembers working the crowd with Zach. They’d been signing autographs, chatting with reporters, enjoying the limelight. He focuses on Zach, leaning on a pillar opposite. He’s still in his tux, his skinny tie loose and askew.

“Do you know how we got here?”

“I don’t even remember the premiere, just some of the crowd.”

“Do you think the others are here? Did they get Karl? Zoë? Simon?”

“Dunno, but I’m pretty sure it’s just us.”

“Fuck,” Chris winces, and reaches to his head as the ache hammers into his brain. “Jesus, what gives?” He holds up his wrists, twin iron shackles encase them and are attached to long heavy looking chains. There’s a bit of rust, but they appear solid. They trail across the dusty floor and are attached to large iron rings set in the walls. There’s a lot of slack. Whoever left them here didn’t want them going anywhere, but didn’t want them immobile either.

“No different here,” says Zach and holds his arms up, the clinking of the links the only sound in the room.

“Is this like an ancient dungeon or something?” Chris looks around; it’s a basic chamber. The walls are stone blocks, the floor is covered in old dust and there are a few stone pillars that obviously hold up the ceiling. Two windows that Chris can see are barred are positioned high on opposite walls.

He loosens his bow tie and thinks about losing the jacket, but it’ll get caught up in the chain.

“I have no idea,” says Zach. “I can only assume we’re still in Germany, but fuck knows how long we were out for.”

“I could do with a drink,” he mutters.

“Here,” says Zach tossing a partially empty water bottle. “It’s all we have, so go easy. We might be here a while.”

Chris takes a mouthful and seals the bottle again. “They’re gonna feed us, aren’t they, or are they leaving us here to die?”

“I don’t know that either, Chris.”

Chris leans back, resting his head against the stone pillar. What the hell is going on?

“If we’re gonna die in here man, I want you to know it’s been an absolute pleasure to know you.”

Zach chuckles. “Likewise, I’ve cherished our friendship. Although I can only hope it will continue once we’re out of here.”

“Yeah.”

No food arrives, but after exploring the dungeon they manage to find a small trickle of water leaking down one of the walls. After a surreptitious taste test, it’s deemed safe and they refill the bottle, surprised the water is as clear as the water that had previously filled it.

They chat throughout the day, trying to ignore rumbling stomachs and as the night closes in, they realize that perhaps they have indeed been left to die and rot.

“Why is it so fucking freezing in here?” says Chris rubbing his arms with his hands to no effect. His chains jangle with the motion.

“Here,” says Zach and Chris can hear him moving. It’s pitch black and he can’t see anything. “Come over here, we can warm each other.”

“Okay, sure,” says Chris and moves away from his pillar, locating Zach by feel and the noise of his chains. Zach guides him to turn around, with his back facing Zach, then he wraps an arm over Chris’s waist and pulls him back, effectively spooning in behind him. “Mm, that’s better,” says Chris when he feels Zach’s warmth against his back. “Won’t you get cold?”

“We can swap.”

“Yep, okay.”

Throughout the night they take turns spooning behind each other. Chris wakes just before dawn when the dungeon is starting to lighten from black to gray.

He’s scooped in behind Zach, his hand thrown over the lanky man’s hip. He flexes his fingers, brushing over something firm and rigid in Zach’s trousers. Oh shit, it’s Zach’s cock! Chris knows he should leave well enough alone, but the temptation is too great. Too many interviews rubbing up against each other, too many after parties where they danced together and that one time when they almost drowned in each other’s gaze. And too many nights shacked up in hotels thinking what if, what if, and does he want me too?

Chris runs his fingers over the taut fabric, exploring Zach’s size and length and learning he’s a big guy. It’s pressing hard against Zach’s zipper and though he knows he shouldn’t Chris can’t help but slide the fastener down. The silk of Zach’s boxers greets his hand when the cock underneath springs forward through the gap. Before he talks himself out of it, Chris grips it firmly and gives it an earnest squeeze.

“Don’t start something you won’t want to finish,” says a raspy, sleep filled voice.

“And if I want to finish?”

With his chains rattling, Zach rolls over. His fly widens enabling his cock to slip free through the folds. “Then why have you stopped?”

“You were asleep.”

“I was awake before you were, dude.”

“How would you know?”

“You stopped snoring.”

“Fuck you, I don’t snore.”

Zach just laughs and moves his hips towards Chris’s hand, which is resting against his hip. “I believe you were about to finish something?” He settles back, his hands behind his head in spite of his shackled wrists.

Chris reaches for him, and rubs his fingertips over the furry base before he grips him firmly. “Zach?”

“Yeah?”

“What if this is it?”

“This isn’t it,” says Zach sternly. “Don’t think like that.”

“But what if it is? Don’t you still wanna do stuff?”

“There’s a lot of stuff I wanna do, but even with a thousand lifetimes I probably won’t get to do it all.”

“What about fucking me?”

“I beg your pardon?” says Zach half sitting up to stare at Chris. “You never, ever joke about that kind of shit. Don’t go dangling Hollywood’s hottest in front of a gay man unless you know that’s what he wants.”

“It’s want he wants.”

“Chris, that’s a line you never get to uncross. Besides, my style isn’t what most guys want.”

“I’ve done it before, you wouldn’t be my first. And what style, what do you mean?”

“I tend to get a little rough.”

“Smacked ass rough? Or whips and chains rough?”

“Let’s not, my dick won’t cope with that kind of torture.”

“Tell me,” says Chris. He can feel how hard his is. His cock is straining against his zipper that he’s certain the imprint of it will be embossed on taut skin. He adjusts himself a little, wishing he’d worn underwear, and when he looks up he sees Zach watching him.

“Fine,” says Zach. “I’d probably restrain you with these chains here.” He looks around. “Maybe even have you swinging on that,” he says and points to a large hook in the ceiling.

“Oh shit,” Chris says with a swallow. “That’s pretty hot right there, dude.”

“Really?” Zach says sounding surprised. “You’d be into that?”

“Um, yeah,” says Chris. “I’ve been fantasizing about you since we first read together. Jesus, dude, all I’ve wanted since is to feel your cock in my ass.”

“Well, when you say it so eloquently…”

Chris leans over and kisses Zach’s cheek. “Fuck me.”

With mutual consent established, Zach takes little time in arranging Chris. His ruined shirt and jacket are pressed under Chris’s head and Zach uses Chris’s chains to bind his forearms, wrapping them together so his hands are against his elbows. Chris feels his trousers pulled roughly over his ass, the cool of the dungeon spiking his skin with goose bumps. Once released, his aching cock and balls swing free, dangling between his legs like a bell clapper.

“Fuck,” Zach breathes and runs his hands over Chris’s ass, squeezing the flesh, which pulls his cheeks apart. “Oh God, yesss!”

With his hands behind his back and his head shoved against his tattered clothes, Chris is only capable of breathing, but groans when he feels a cool stream of air blowing directly on his hole. He flinches, tightening the loop of chain around his neck, but it’s far from constricting his airway. It’s just uncomfortable, tethered as he is to Zach since Zach used both his own and Chris’s chains to bind him. Zach’s tongue is warm compared to the breeze and Chris bucks a little when he feels it flicking over his ass. Zach pushes against him, probing his sphincter with incessant licks.

Chris grunts his arms pulling against the chains until a firm hand slaps down hard across one cheek.

“Be still for me,” Zach murmurs. The sting of the slap pulses over Chris’s tingling skin and he moans into his lacerated tux jacket, his thighs quivering. Zach’s hand, the one that hit him is still on his ass. He squeezes hard making Chris groan with pain. “Still,” he says sternly.

He’s trying very hard, but his junk won’t stop swinging and he’s trembling all over. He can feel Zach’s mouth just inches away from his ass and he so desperately wants to feel that mouth on his skin. “Okay,” he mumbles.

“Don’t speak,” says Zach kissing the edge of his crack. “Just be still.” He tongue slides close again and this time Zach pushes it hard enough that it actually enters him. Chris whimpers making fists as he desperately tries to keep his body from bucking. His cock feels so hard, too hard, and he wants to ask Zach to touch it and jack it and bring him the release he needs.

Zach spits on his hole, dips his tongue in, pulls out and spits again. Over and over until Chris feels beads of sweat becoming trickles down his forehead and along his spine. His knees have gone numb and he can feel Zach’s saliva dripping from his balls. He has chains around each thigh so when Zach pulls a certain way it forces his legs apart further. Pulling a different chain tightens the length around his neck. His own chains bind his wrists, spiralling around his arms and around his torso making it hard to move.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Pine,” he says and Chris can hear him straighten, the zipper of his trousers and the rustle of fabric as it’s loosened. He feels the head of Zach’s cock against his hole almost an instant later and he cringes, feeling its size in comparison to Zach’s adventurous tongue.

Zach sinks in and the sudden spark of unbidden pain forces a yelp from Chris.

“Mm,” sighs Zach. “Fuck you feel good. It’s like your body is pulling on me, urging me to slide into you. Fuck, you were made for my cock Pine, your body hungers for it.”

Chris swallows. He’s managing to adjust to Zach’s intrusion and the pain abates a little when Zach kneels, his cock lodged. Chris has never felt so heavy and full. His own dick is leaking profusely, soaking the dust with an ever growing puddle of pre-come. Then Zach pulls back and the scorch of pain rips through him.

“Ah, fuck!” Chris cries out before his shout becomes a harrowing whimper. Zach shoves in again and Chris barks out another cry. “Fuck!”

“Easy,” says Zach, smoothing his hands over Chris’s ass and back. “We don’t have lube; it’s the best I can do. You wanted this, you wanted my cock inside you, remember?”

Chris nods, though it’s more a rubbing his head back and forth over his jacket. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

Zach goes to move again, but Chris hisses, anticipating the pain before he’s really gone an inch. “What do you want me to do, Chris? You want to stop?”

“No, I just. It hurts.”

“It’s going to until you get used to me. We can just as easily have a hand job each, no harm, no foul.”

“No, fuck me Zach, please fuck me.”

Zach starts again, but before he’s pulled out barely half an inch, Chris is crying out. He shoves back in; it hurts more on the way out. Chris tries to relieve his aching muscles, but the chains merely dig into him and he can’t move much at all. He can feel tears scorching the backs of his eyes: this is what he wants, what he’s always wanted, to have Zach buried to the hilt inside him. And since this could be their only chance, he’s not going to face the afterlife without having experienced it.

Zach then leans over him and takes a firm hold of his cock. Rock solid and as sensitive as fuck, Chris huffs through his teeth and feels a fresh flow of pre-come dribble from the end. Zach uses it as lube when he begins to jack him. Chris whimpers, he’s too close, this won’t take long. He wants to move his hips, fuck into Zach’s warm slick hand, but the cautioning hand that’s leaning on his ass gives a warning squeeze.

“Oh, God,” says Zach, “You’re squeezing my cock. Fuck, it feels good.” He jerks harder, faster and Chris cries into the jacket, the tears flowing unchecked. “Yeah, squeeze me, mm, yes like that. You don’t even know you’re doing it.”

“Please, Zach,” Chris whispers and he’s not even sure what he’s pleading for. “Please.”

“Come on, let go. Come into my hand.”

“Oh, God,” Chris cries and with a final grunt shoots. Zach is using both hands, one to catch his jizz and the other to continue stroking.

“There you go,” says Zach and kisses Chris’s back before he lets go and straightens. He pulls out a little and Chris can feel his cooling spooge dribble over his tortured hole. Zach shunts in a few times, spreading it around and Chris immediately feels the difference, it’s easier, slicker and Zach has a smoother passage in which to fuck. He doesn’t waste time. Jerking hard on the chain, Chris feels his legs spread wider, his spent cock, withering between his legs, twitches with interest. Zach grabs hold of his cheeks and buries himself over and over, pushing in firm hard thrusts until Chris begins to feel the scrape in his knees.

Another jerk of the chain and his cock is brushing back and forth over his protesting trousers. It’s enough friction to get him going again. Zach takes hold of his wrists, using them as leverage to shove in as deep as humanly possible. Chris can hear his breath getting raspy, the occasional groan escaping until with a loud grunt Zach shoots into Chris’s body.

Once sated, Zach helps Chris out of the chains, soothing the deep marks with soft caresses and the odd gentle kiss. Chris accepts Zach’s kiss afterwards and lets Zach hold him close enough for it to become claustrophobic. His hands stroke as sweetly as if Chris was a kitten, but he figures Zach needs to make him feel soothed.

“You okay?” Zach asks.

“Yeah,” says Chris, although he’s beginning to feel suffocated. “I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you too much?” Zach asks, his nose in Chris’s hair, nuzzling as he seeks some kind of absolution for the pain he caused.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine,” says Chris punctuating his words with a kiss to Zach’s palm.

“We don’t have anything to make it better.”

“Don’t worry about it, Zach. It doesn’t even feel bad.” It’s a lie because his ass aches, but it’s a lovely dull ache, a sign that he’s achieved one of his life goals. Getting fucked by Zachary Quinto.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” says Zach, pressing his face harder against Chris’s hair. He’s stroking over Chris’s stricken hole, gentle soft caresses that even with the ache feel surprisingly soothing.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” says Chris, unsure how else to alleviate Zach’s angst other than holding him because Zach is clinging so hard.

“When you cried out in pain it felt as though if I make you hurt then I know we’re both alive,” he says, muffled because of his position. “That sounds so stupid out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” says Chris. He can feel it too. The pain Zach inflicted lets him know he’s still here, that they’re both still here and neither of them has crossed to the other side. It’s only been a night, but with empty bellies the thought of death is never far from their minds. “It sounds like you care.”

Zach squeezes harder, buries his face further. “I just want to hurt you so badly.”

“I need to hurt as much as you need me to feel it. It’s okay, Zach. I get it.”

There’s a sniff, but Zach’s refusing to let go. Chris just lets him hang on, whatever wave he’s riding, whatever emotional crest he needs to climb over, Chris lets him squeeze and cling and try to stifle the sobs that are dampening his hair.

“We gotta get out of here.”

“Yeah, we will.”

That afternoon, a heap of stale refuse tumbles out of a narrow gap between two blocks of stone near a corner of the dungeon. Chains clinking, both Chris and Zach move to investigate. Half eaten chunks of stale bread, old apples and grapes and a bunch of limp looking lettuce are some of the more identifiable items.

“Do we eat it?” asks Chris.

Zach picks up a bit of bread. Chris is hungry enough not to care how brittle it might be, he just wants something in is stomach. He grabs a piece and takes a large bite. The bread is as hard as an old dried up kitchen sponge, but he manages to chew it up, just grateful they’re not going to die of starvation. After watching Chris for a moment, Zach follows suit.

“Do you think they’ve asked for a ransom?” asks Chris.

“I can’t think of any other reason for them to take us in the first place,” says Zach.

After the bread, Chris tries an apple, biting around a large bruise. He doesn’t touch the lettuce and the rest looks too far gone, mushed up as it is. He’s grateful to be eating something, but he doesn’t need to replace starvation with some kind of dreadful stomach bug.

A welcome drink of water washes it down and though it wasn’t much, he’s thankful to have something in his stomach other than a gnawing growl.

“Not exactly fine dining, but I’m not complaining,” says Chris, making his way back to his pillar. He hears Zach follow and they sit across from each other. Chris looks at the blocks of stone that make up the dungeon cell. “We must be underground, or at least partially, considering we have sunlight. And that food came from a height. It’s almost as though this place was built for prisoners.”

“Or hostages,” says Zach. “We’re in Germany, remember? They have several historical castles strewn around; chances are there’ll be a few long abandoned.”

“Yeah,” says Chris, when the reality of their situation sinks in.

“Take the food,” says Zach. “Old sandwiches and fruit. Travel food for our kidnappers maybe? They probably don’t live here, or they could be camping out. I don’t think this place has running water, let alone electricity.”

“Okay, so it’s likely we’re in an abandoned castle, probably more like a ruin than a dwelling.”

“And somewhere that isn’t visited by tourists. If they’ve brought us here it’s because no one comes here.”

“Ransom does seem the only motive, unless there’s a bunch of Germans that seriously hate scifi,” says Chris. “And I left my cell at the hotel. Don’t suppose you have yours?”

“Nope,” says Zach. “It was the first thing I checked for. They probably took it.”

“Dammit,” says Chris draping his shredded jacket across his bare shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” says Zach, motioning towards the ruined garment.

“It’s okay,” he says, shrugging. “Funnily enough I was warmer when we were fucking.”

Zach’s gaze suddenly becomes intense. “Don’t start giving me more incentive,” he says.

Chris hikes up his legs so his pants are forced to reveal his ankles, and rests his arms on his spread knees. He notices Zach flicks a quick look between them. “You want my ass again, don’t you?”

“Wow, who says romance is dead?” says Zach. “Is this your way of asking me to fuck you again?”

“Hardly, you eyeballing my cock seems answer enough. I bet you’re already imagining stuffing your meat inside me.”

“Jesus, Chris. Keep up that kind of pillow talk and you’ll seriously find out.”

“Oh come on, you want it, you want to shove your big fat dick into my tight warm hole,” he says running a finger over his trousers, from his asshole to the tip of his semi hard cock.

Zach mumbles something inaudible and shifts his position, but Chris doesn’t miss him adjusting himself as he does so. And why not? What else can they do? And though it hurts, Chris feels himself hardening at the mere thought of Zach ramming into him, of showing little mercy when he binds him with the chains and takes full advantage of his willing body.

Zach hasn’t stopped watching him and Chris has seen the way Zach’s eyes travel to his crotch and back again. He can probably tell Chris is hard.

“Fuck me, Zach,” says Chris. “Remind me that we’re still alive and that my dream of having you balls deep inside will be totally fulfilled in the extreme.”

Zach takes a little cajoling, but Chris finds it even easier when he twists around and entices his co-star with a full blown view of his naked ass.

“Fuck me,” Zach breathes.

“I’d rather you fucked me,” says Chris looking around to see Zach’s face. He smiles and Zach’s eyebrows quirk up.

“You should do a dirty photo shoot; it’d be a best seller.”

“Captain Cock I take it?”

Zach laughs, “Nah, I’d be Cock, you’d be Captain Spurt!” Chris feels his balls swing as he tries to control his laughter. “Across the world gay trekkers will be lubing up with that piece of gold on the bedside table.”

“Funnily enough, I can believe it.”

“Ass, the final frontier,” says Zach. “These are the voyagers of the ass-ship Enterhim!”

Chris collapses as he does his best to keep breathing. “To boldly come where possibly other men have come before!” He’s on his back when he eventually stops laughing, his dick resting on his thigh and Zach’s eyes fixed squarely on it. “Going to let me get cold?”

Zach moves forward and Chris bites his lip the instant those hands grab and haul his trousers off. His legs are soon wrapped in Zach’s chains, then his wrists are bound with his own in front.

“Touch yourself,” says Zach. Chris complies, but uses both hands as they’re positioned too closely together for him to get a fisted grip on himself. “Yeah, like that.” Zach pulls off his trousers, tucking his shirt up to his chest. He grabs the loose part of chain from Chris’s legs and stands, looping them around the hook in the ceiling with a well-aimed toss. Then with a swift yank, Chris’s legs are hoisted upward, his ass leaves the floor, his body leaning on his shoulders.

“Jesus,” Chris murmurs, momentarily losing his rhythm. Zach kneels between his legs, his hips brushing against Chris’s thighs, and leans forward, kissing and licking the tip of Chris’s rigid cock. “Oh yeah,” he sighs, watching as Zach’s mouth encloses the head and sucks, his tongue delving into the slit. “Fuck.”

He laps at the underside, running his tongue along the junction of shaft and head, wriggling his tongue until he engulfs it again. Chris jerks in response, his body flashing with burning sparks of pleasure. The chains rattle and jingle when his legs spasm and his feet jolt.

“Come on yourself,” whispers Zach. “I wanna see how far your jizz goes.” He nuzzles into Chris’s balls then resulting in a cry when he takes one into his mouth.

“I’m nearly there, oh fuck, I’m about to...”

Zach sucks in the other ball and pushes a finger into Chris’s ass. Chris feels it slide in easily, no doubt coated in Zach’s saliva. When it hits his prostate he wails and shoots streams of come over his belly and chest. At this angle it has further to fall and so almost reaches as far as his clavicle.

Chris closes his eyes, his body rolling through his orgasm in flinches and jerks while Zach continues to kiss and caress his spent cock. Zach’s hands then run over him and he realizes Zach’s scooping up his come. Without proper lube, Chris’s cooling come is all they have to ensure their union isn’t exceptionally painful for him. He’s happy to come first anyway, because though his orgasm ripples over him with waves of bliss, it’s feeling Zach inside him that brings him the greatest pleasure.

He watches Zach slather his cock with come, breathing a little harder when two fingers push in, but it feels really good. Zach fucks him with his fingers for a few thrusts, withdrawing them all too soon. Then Chris feels that cock pressing to his ass. He opens as best he can, trying to shift his legs even though they’re dangling uselessly either side of Zach’s firm body.

“Ah, fuck!” Chris yelps when Zach slides in. No matter how many fingers, he doesn’t think his body will get used to Zach’s size beforehand.

Zach stills a moment. “You still want this?”

“Yes, dammit, yes I want it,” he breathes, “Fuck me already will you?”

Zach holds the shackles of Chris’s wrists, and uses them to pull Chris’s body onto his cock. With his legs as high as they are and spread as wide as Zach could make them, Chris starts getting a cramp. He says nothing, enjoying the fact that he’s capable of turning the usually suave Mr Quinto into a raging fuck machine. Zach’s hips slap against him, his fingers brushing over his hard, almost painful cock when Zach fucks into his ass.

Chris begins to wonder if they’ll ever be found. They’ve got to be searching for them; they would have been missed pretty quickly. Did they make it to the after party? Maybe they were jumped after they left the premiere. Had they left together?

“Hey,” says Zach, tugging Chris’s chaffed wrists which forces his dick further into Chris’s body. “Back here with me.”

“I’m here,” says Chris.

Zach leans forward, maintaining his rhythm and forcing Chris to curl against him. He kisses Chris’s mouth hungrily, biting and licking and tugging in demand. “Let’s keep it that way,” he says, gazing directly into Chris’s eyes.

Chris can’t answer. His position is curving his neck and back, but he responds by bucking up against Zach’s hips. He bites his lip gazing up at Zach’s wanton face as he looks long and hard at Chris.

“Fuck, dude, this is the hottest thing ever,” Chris mumbles. Zach loosens the chain a little, shifts Chris’s legs and angles into him in deep pistoning thrusts. “Oh, oh, oh mm!” Chris cries as his prostate is hammered by Zach’s relentless dick. His semi hard cock springs back to life, dribbling against his belly as Zach plunges into him.

“Think I need a dungeon of my own,” says Zach sweat trickling down his temples. “This is a serious turn on.”

The chains rattle and jingle with his movements. With his mouth hovering less and an inch above Chris’s, his eyes flutter closed and Chris watches Zach’s expression as he comes: bitten lip before opening in a gasp, eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows rise. Chris tilts his chin, capturing Zach’s mouth when he feels the final pulses of Zach’s orgasm rippling through his ass. Chris feels him grow heavier as he rests against him, his bound wrists squishing into his belly, which isn’t especially comfortable, but Zach doesn’t seem in any hurry to move.

Eventually, long after he’s slipped out he pulls up and carefully unwraps the chains around Chris’s legs and arms. He rubs over the skin to encourage circulation. Chris doesn’t try to stop him, though there’s pain from the blood returning, Zach’s vigorous movement is quite soothing.

 

“I’d really like to go home,” says Chris as the sunlight grows dim.

“Me, too,” says Zach.

When darkness surrounds them and the chill of the night settles in, Chris is just about to drift off when a loud clunk makes him partially sit up, heart racing, ears listening.

“You heard that?” asks Zach.

“Yeah.”

“Mr Pine? Mr Quinto?” says a voice.

“We’re here,” says Zach loudly.

“Hold on, we’ve nearly got you,” says the accented voice. Both Chris and Zach get to their feet. More noises, loud crashes, banging and the jangle of keys. Then there’s the scrape of a key in a lock, a clunk and the sound of a door opening on rusty old hinges. A bright beam of light flashes at them. “Wir haben sie bekam Sir, erscheinen sie unverletzt sein.” (We’ve found them sir, they appear to be unharmed.) When the flashlight lowers a little, Chris can see two police officers, one of whom is speaking into a walkie talkie.

Soon after, Chris and Zach are taken to police car which speeds them to the nearest hospital. They learn they had been taken to an abandoned castle in the Black Forest; they share a look, pleased they had come to the same conclusion.

Though he’d rather be in his own bed, Chris is not complaining about actually being _in_ a bed! They keep them both overnight for observation and to treat dehydration and low blood sugar.

The following morning they’re discharged and picked up by the police again to make a formal statement and answer more questions. Neither of them had seen their kidnappers, but the police have a group of four in custody and with the evidence they’ve collected there’s enough to press charges.

The rest of the cast and crew had all refused to leave for the next scheduled city and so for the rest of the day they're surrounded by very relieved and worried workmates. Though there's the occasional knowing glance towards one another Chris feels an emptiness at the loss of such an intense couple of days.

Later, when he’s alone in his hotel room, waiting for the next flight back to LA, Chris sits on the bed and wonders what Zach’s doing in his room. Though the circumstances had been dreadful he wonders if that will be it or if there’s any chance Zach would want to get together again.

He gets ready for bed and is about to slide under the covers when the phone’s shrill ring startles him.

“Captain Spurt?” says Zach in a deep and heavily suggestive tone. “This is Cock.”

Chris doesn’t even hang up; he just makes a bolt for the door.


End file.
